What is your impression of Delingha?
Is it the "desolate city in the rain" written by Haizi?
Or is it your feelings deep in the Gobi?
Is it the solo song under the moon at the end of the grassland?
Or is it a hidden secret that rises from the ground?
Delingha’s uniqueness and mystery make it have many different appearances. A thousand people come here with a thousand purposes. In such a quiet place, because of Haizi, Delingha has become a place of affection that I cannot get around for many years. From the desolation of the Gobi to the lush greenery, from the sudden burst of sunlight to the quiet night, Delingha, three beautifully pronounced words, keep repeating in my mind.
Here there is no heroic ambition of fighting for the Central Plains; there is no golden sentiment of the bright moon of the motherland and the carved railings and jade inlays. This is an ancient sea, a young basin, and a new city. The beautiful and fertile Bayin River, the vast Qilian Mountains, the magical Terah rock paintings, the wildlife kingdom Iqala Ranch, the mysterious "alien" ruins, the salty and gentle Lover's Lake, and the cypress mountain with ancient strange trees. ...Compared with the heroic and unrestrained Northwest, Delingha is just a faint sight, but because of its thousands of faces, the Northwest has a touch of tenderness amidst the grandeur.
At the beginning of this year, my friend Ran and I talked more than once. As a long-distance trip before going abroad for a gap year, I would definitely go to Delingha.
On June 27, 1988, Haizi took a train to Tibet for the second time, passing through Delingha - a "desolate city in the rain" at that time. Eyes full of sadness, heart full of loneliness. Delingha is the loneliness descending from the darkness, the mirage on the desolate Gobi Desert, the emptiness without any trace of life, and the eternal scenery gushing out from under the black hole in the poet's heart.
On June 26, 2018, I once again came to the Northwest with affection in my eyes, and made a special trip to Delingha. The Bayin River, formed by mountains and snow, runs through the city like a warm green belt, dividing the city into north and south districts. Thirty years have passed since Haizi passed through Delingha. This small town is no longer "empty in the Gobi desert". It has become a completely different scene. People live peacefully and are full of greenery everywhere. There is no sense of desolation at all. When I see Delingha again today, who would have thought that she was once "a desolate city" in the vast Gobi desert described by the poet.
When we arrived, my heart still naturally floated -
"Sister, I am in Delingha tonight, and the night is shrouded in darkness.
Sister, I only have the Gobi Desert tonight.
My hands are empty at the end of the grassland
When I am sad, I can’t hold a single teardrop"
......
Every thought This poem will sigh that talent is really a definite thing. Although it is colorless, tasteless and cannot be touched, it is clear at a glance. Just like the loneliness in the lines of poetry.
After leaving Chaka, we passed through the Gobi Desert at dusk and arrived at Delingha, a small and quiet city. I deliberately live not far from Haizi Poetry Museum, as if this way I can be very close to the poet.
I woke up very early in the morning, packed everything, and then Xiao and I started a journey to find "Haizi Poetry Exhibition Hall". Delingha in June, with the willow trees and the wind blowing on my face, is completely different from the Qinghai Lake and the scorching hot tea in the rain along the way. The morning light shone lazily, illuminating every part of the small town with warmth.
At this time, Delingha is like a bowl of refreshing white porridge, exuding a faint fragrance of rice. The traces of time are gone. Go around the corners of the small town, have a cup of stomach-warming soy milk, and slow down to appreciate the unique style of Delingha.
After a short walk, we arrived at the Haizi Poetry Exhibition Hall, an elegant courtyard. The blue sky is high and light white clouds are scattered and floating over the city. At this moment in the morning, Delingha is quiet and empty.
In the Quiet Poetry Hall, Xiao and I were the only two strangers here to attend this spiritual date. Walking towards the door in the morning light, I looked up and saw two lines of poems written by the poet Jidi Maga: A few people become connected in this world, and a poem brings flowers blooming in heaven. Stopping at the door, I couldn't help but think of the poet's short life of twenty-five years.
Most people know Haizi, and most of them start with the song "Facing the Sea, Spring is Warm and Flowers are Blooming" and end with committing suicide by lying on the train. He didn't care about loneliness, nor was he deliberately tragic. Such a talented poet fell like this. He will always live in people's memory like a puzzle with loneliness that the world cannot understand, and he will never grow old. He left behind 2 million words of poetry for future generations. In the last two years of his life, he was like a young star, burning against time and then suddenly exploding.
Walking into the museum, you will find a small room filled with items related to Haizi: texts, images, and books. Simple and elegantly furnished. Standing in the poetry museum that does not belong to Haizi, I watched the room full of books for a long time without any noise.
Looking at the life written by the world, the poems commemorating him, and interpreting his relationship with four women... but I don’t know who can truly understand how much he had in his heart. Sad and somewhat lonely. We seemed to be approaching him, but we didn't seem to be walking in.
I walked slowly to the poem that haunted me in Delingha, and read it quietly in my heart, unable to bear to make a sound. At that time, Haizi caught a sister in his desolate and devastated heart. His frustration created the poet's poetry, leaving us with infinite speculation and interpretation.
"I return the stone to the stone
Let the victory win
Tonight the highland barley belongs only to himself
Everything is growing< /p>
Tonight I only have the beautiful desert sky
Sister, I don’t care about human beings tonight, I only want you."
Although this poem has been recited to the point of being aesthetically saturated , but when they looked at each other again, they still recalled this sentence as strangely as possible, "Sister, I don't care about humans tonight, I only want you." Yes, humans are too big, and all I need is you.
My friend Xiao is not interested in poetry, and he only came with me. She left the museum midway, leaving me alone to talk to "Haizi". Xi Chuan, who was both a poet and Haizi's best friend during his lifetime, said: "For us, Haizi is a genius, but for himself, he will always be a lonely 'king'.
Recalling that when he was in Shenzhen, he was both I was chatting with my good friend Chen Duo, and talked about the reason why I went to Delingha. I said it was probably because of Haizi’s poetry, and I wanted to take a closer look at the lonely and desolate city in Haizi’s eyes. She sent me Haizi's "Four Sisters" and told me that it was her favorite poem by Haizi. She couldn't explain why, but she loved it so much
I think it was probably because* The same loneliness. The same loneliness. Everyone in the world is lonely. Loneliness is an eternal topic in human beings. As he wrote in "Loneliness in Changping": " Loneliness is the deer king sleeping in the spring/the deer hunter in the dream/the one who carries water in a fish basket. "It's still a fish basket when it's pulled to the shore. It's unspeakably lonely." ”
Writing this, I suddenly thought of Haizi’s good friend Luo Yihe. In terms of talent, Luo Yihe is by no means inferior to Haizi, but it’s a pity that there is no legend of death as a foil. Poetry is not a popular thing after all, and I probably don’t either. There is no need to feel sorry for Luo Yihe, who is silent under Haizi's fame. After all, anyone who has written poetry knows that the moment he stops writing, there is supreme satisfaction.
Luo Yihe said: We have loved, lived, and died, and never looked back.
When we walked out of the Poetry Hall, we returned to reality, looked at the small city of Delingha, took a breath of fresh air, and let our brains relax. Empty. My guess in the early morning is like a claw in the snow and mud, without any trace. I can only light a cigarette, take a quick look at the fate between Haizi and Delingha, and then turn around and leave. .